BEVERLY BARTON - If Looks Could Kill

Caleb sat between his grandparents at the large oak table. “I’ll do my best to visit more often, Miss Reba. But I have a job and a girlfriend that both require a great deal of my time.”

He sensed rather than saw his grandmother stiffen at the mention of a girlfriend. Reba Upton had forbidden her grandson, Jamie, to marry Jazzy when they’d been teenagers and he’d gotten Jazzy pregnant. And although Jazzy had miscarried the child and Jamie had allowed his grandmother to dictate who he could and could not marry, Jamie and Jazzy had continued an on-again, off-again affair for years. Not only did his grandmother’s disapproval stand between Jazzy and Caleb, but so did his cousin’s memory. Yet he hoped that with each passing day, Jazzy’s memories of Jamie would dim and the time would come when she would trust him with her heart. Jamie had used her and disappointed her so often that Jazzy was afraid to believe in another man, especially another Upton heir. The fact that Miss Reba staunchly opposed his and Jazzy’s relationship sure didn’t help his efforts to convince Jazzy to marry him.

“You shouldn’t be wasting your time working as a bouncer in that awful place,” Miss Reba told him. “Jim is eager to have you come into the family business. He should have retired completely years ago. Someday in the not too distant future, Upton Dairies will be yours, so you should be learning the business now.”

That was another thing he hadn’t quite gotten used to—being the only heir to a fortune worth at least fifty or sixty million, maybe more. The Uptons had originally been dairy farmers, and he supposed that’s what they still were. But right after World War I, Big Jim’s grandfather and father had expanded the local business, and by the time World War II ended, Upton Dairies was the biggest producer of milk and dairy products in the state of Tennessee. With shrewd investments and by branching out, the family’s wealth had increased immeasurably over the years. Big Jim had recently taken Caleb aside and explained all this to him.

“Good God, woman, will you stop pressuring the boy. Let him get used to being our grandson before you start trying to run his life.”

Reba gasped dramatically. “I’m offended that you’d accuse me of such a thing. I’d never try to—”

Big Jim laughed, the sound deep and robust. “Lord love you, honey, you honestly can’t see your own faults. Never could.” Not giving his wife time for a quick rebuttal, Jim reached out and slapped Caleb on the arm. “Something tells me that this young man won’t be so easily manipulated. From what I’ve seen, he has a mind and a will of his own. He’ll do whatever the hell he pleases—about Upton Dairies and about Jazzy Talbot.”

“How is Jasmine?” Miss Reba asked, her voice strained.

Caleb was genuinely surprised that his grandmother had even inquired about Jazzy. He knew how much effort it had taken her to say Jazzy’s name in a civil manner, con sidering how she—no matter how irrational the idea was—held Jazzy partly responsible for Jamie’s death.

“Jazzy’s just fine,” Caleb replied. “Thank you for asking, Miss Reba.”

“I do wish you’d call me Big Mama.”

“I feel more comfortable calling you Miss Reba, at least for now.”

“Miss Reba and Big Jim us fine with us,” Jim said. “So, Jazzy’s doing fine, huh? You’ll have to bring her out here to dinner one evening.” He shot Reba a warning glare. “Won’t he, honey? We’d be pleased to have her.”

Caleb glanced at his grandmother and barely restrained the laughter bubbling up in his throat. Miss Reba had gone ghost white, her perfect pink mouth formed a startled oval and her big blue eyes widened as round as saucers.

“I doubt Jasmine Talbot would accept an invitation to dine with us,” Reba said. “Considering our past history.”

“She might.” Caleb looked pleadingly at his grandmother. “If you telephoned her and invited her yourself.”

Miss Reba swallowed, took a deep breath and offered him a weak smile. “Would you like that, dear? Would it please you?”

“Yes, ma’am. It would please me a great deal. I’d very much like it if the woman I love and my grandmother could get along.”

“You—you love her?”

“Yes, ma’am, I do.”

“I see.”

Jim sat quietly, watching and listening. And apparently waiting to find out what the outcome of this exchange would be.

“You might as well know that sooner or later, I’ll wear Jazzy down and she’ll agree to marry me.” Caleb kept his gaze fixed determinedly on his grandmother’s pale face. “And there’s nothing anyone can say or do to stop me from making her my wife. Do you understand what I’m saying, Miss Reba?”

“Yes, I understand perfectly.”

“I hope you do because I wouldn’t want to ever have to choose between you and her. I’ve just found you and Big Jim. I’d sure hate to lose you.”

“You aren’t going to lose me—lose us,” Miss Reba said with firm conviction. “I’ll telephone Jasmine later today and invite her to Sunday dinner tomorrow.”

Grinning, feeling as if he’d won a major battle, Caleb got up, walked over to his grandmother and kissed her on the cheek. “Thank you.”

Tears glistened in Miss Reba’s eyes. Curling her small hand around his arm, she pursed her lips and returned his kiss.

“Oh, by the way, you might want to invite Reve Sorrell, too,” Caleb said. “She arrived in Cherokee Pointe earlier today and is going to be staying for a while. Dr. MacNair took DNA samples this morning and sent them off. We should know within a week if Jazzy and Reve are twins.”

“That’s a mighty peculiar thing,” Big Jim said. “Those two gals finding out that they could be sisters. Has Jazzy questioned her aunt Sally again about the circumstances surrounding her birth?”

“No, not lately, but the old woman has sworn that Jazzy was the only baby born to her sister, Corrine.”

“Where is Ms. Sorrell staying?” Reba asked. “Surely not with Jasmine. I mean, the two hardly know each other and certainly have nothing in common.”

Caleb pulled away from his grandmother and returned to his seat. “No, she and Jazzy haven’t reached the sisterly bonding point. Yet. Reve is renting a place from Cherokee Cabin Rentals.”

“I should invite her to stay here,” Reba said and elicited surprised looks from Caleb and Big Jim.

“Why ever would you do that?” Jim asked.

“Because Ms. Sorrell was a friend of Jamie’s. And her parents were part of the same social circle as the Wallaces and the Grambrells. Eileen Wallace and I were sorority sisters. Anna Lee Grambrell and I have served on numerous Republican fund raisers statewide. And I’m almost certain that I met Lesley Sorrell not only at a couple of those fundraisers, but at Eileen’s daughter’s wedding, too.”

“Then by all means, considering how closely our families are connected, you must call Ms. Sorrell immediately and invite her to stay with us.” Big Jim chuckled, quite pleased with his own sarcastically humorous assessment of the situation.

“I don’t appreciate your facetious comment,” Reba told her husband. “I’d be remiss in my duties as a social leader in Cherokee County if I didn’t extend an invitation to Ms. Sorrell.” She eyed Caleb quizzically. “Do Reve Sorrell and Jasmine Talbot look just alike?”

Caleb grinned. “Yes, except for a few superficial differences. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, no reason.” Reba sighed, then a genuine smile spread across her face. “I’ll telephone Jasmine and invite her and Ms. Sorrell to join us for Sunday dinner. Tomorrow, when they’re here, I’ll issue Ms. Sorrell an invitation to stay with us. I’m sure she’ll find living here preferable to staying in one of those dinky little cabins. A lady of her breeding must find roughing it quite intolerable.”